Everything We Could Have Had
by ShatteredHearts13
Summary: There's a dead girl inside of me. She had a laugh like summer rain until the world tore it away. Little girls who wish on stars don't last long on the ground. There's a dead girl inside of me and I'm the one who killed her. She thought he would come back and save her but he never came. So she become strong. And now he's come back to a stranger who but wears the same name.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **Charlie's POV**

Sebastian Monroe is a jackass.

Probably not what you expected me to say huh? Well it's been enough time that not saying it aloud, leaving it to echo in my head has driven me a bit crazy. Saying it aloud, feels so much better than I thought it would. It's been two years. Seven hundred and twenty days, give or take a few in between since I've seen the infamous Sebastian Monroe. The last moments with him he stoked my hair, running it between his fingers as he tilted my chin up with his finger so my eyes met his as he said ' _I hope you get everything you've ever wanted Charlie."_ I didn't. When he walked away he left Miles, Aaron and I to bury everyone we ever loved, mom, grandpa, Priscilla, even Connor. I don't think Monroe really realized what that would do to us, to bury everyone we loved and then try to live like we won the war. It sure as hell didn't feel like winning.

People streamed through the streets whooping and cheering for the new beginning that they found and Miles and I could only look at each other in a question of what to do next. Aaron, well Aaron didn't even bother to care, he just locked himself in his house and shut the world away. Now don't get me wrong, I know why Monroe left, I know how much Connors death broke him, but if he had just stopped for a moment he would have realized how broken I was, how broken Miles was too, how broken we all were. Monroe got the easy way out, running as far as he could and as much as I thought about running after him and hauling his ass back to us, I was more angry than anything that I couldn't do the same thing. But that would mean leaving Miles to fend for himself and I knew Miles, he would be dead with a bottle in his lap by the end of the week if I left. He couldn't survive without me and if we're being honest, I didn't think I could survive without him either.

That's how the first year of our lives went, us trying to survive. We found an old shack on the outskirts of Willouby and together he and I fixed it, me more than him but still, he was more than content to sit it oblivion with a bottle until he passed out. It wasn't until one rainy morning I woke up to silence, not the usual snores from a passed out Miles and knew in my gut that something was wrong. I found him almost a hundred feet from the house, passed out in the rain, shaking from being in the cold all night and I lost it. I knew how hard it was for him to lose mom, it was probably harder for him than for me, but I couldn't do this anymore, I couldn't sit by and watch him kill himself slowly while I tried to survive for the both of us, I was barely surviving as it was.

I had dropped twenty pound, weighing a hundred pounds on a good day and I never seemed to have an appetite no matter how much work I did that day. I didn't remember what happiness felt like, all I felt was numbness with twinges of something that resembled anger on a good day and the bad days seemed to blur together four or five of them at a time and I couldn't remember a single thing from those days. On the better days I forced myself to go into town and get us food and supplies and on those days were when the townspeople looked at me, not in fear anymore like they used to, now it was sympathy and god did I hate it. They whispered around town ' _Poor Charlie Matheson, lost everything in the war. Lost herself in the war. Look at her, look how the war wrecked her.'_ That's where they were wrong, the losses wrecked me, the war made me strong. I was no longer fragile Charlie Matheson needing people to save her, I was now forged of iron and fire from doing unspeakable things to win our war.

The beginning of the second year I had finally found a routine to settle into, hunt, check on Miles, go into town for trades and check on Miles, sleep.

Eventually I opened a bar, a little nook of a black hole that seemed appropriate for a Matheson. Miles approved, or more like he approved of finding a drinking hole that served him top shelf whiskey for free, but still. It eventually got him out of his drunken stupor long enough to help me load the stock into my black hole and sometimes, when he found the men were getting too hands with me, he helped me bartend. But for the most part he sat in his booth in the back of the black hole of a bar drinking whiskey and watching me run my ass off. At least I could keep an eye on him here.

I liked the constant of being busy. It kept my mind off of everything else. Off of death, off of the loneliness, off of the obvious abandonment issues I had. The regulars started pouring in by three in the afternoon, they were the haunted ones, the ones who remembered the war like I did. I didn't judge them for the time of day they showed up at. It could've easily been me. Instead I served them the top shelf whiskey with a pat on the back and let them forget, if only for a few hours until they relived it in their nightmares.

It was a mundane routine. The old commune raised Charlie would have rolled her eyes at me for becoming the boring creature of habit she used to reverently shake her head at knowing, let alone becoming. Yet here I was, boring, lonely and slowly losing what fire I had stored inside of me. There was no more fire, no more hope. There was nothing left.

 **Bass's POV**

The town had changed. There were more smiles, more laughter, just…. More. The war being over had brought life into Willouby, kids streaking by him as peals of laughter burst from them. Two years ago he walked away from a town that seemed haunted, the faces of the townspeople haggard and weathered from grief and surviving. It's hard to believe this is the same town. This town is alive. He wonders if the two people he has left in the world are too.

The gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans is a comfort as he roams the streets of Willouby, the sun beating hot down onto him as throngs of people pass him by. He subtly searches for two familiar faces. He doesn't find them.

He wanders the streets until the setting of the sun forces him to find a room for the night, the timid look from the innkeeper telling him that she knows who he is, and that soon enough, if Miles or Charlie are really here, they'll know too. The bag he has slung over his back hits his room floor with an unceremonious thump as he sits heavily on the thin mattress that lays on the wooden bedframe. His body aches from walking, he barely stopped for more than four hours at a time for four weeks, pushing his body to the limit to get here. Now that he's here though, well he doesn't know where to go from here.

He forces himself to get up off the bed and find himself a cleanish shirt before searching for the innkeeper again, forcing himself to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at her wary look.

"I'm looking for someone with the last name Matheson."

She wrinkles her nose, "Charlie's here, but I wouldn't bother her if I were you though."

"Why not?" he asks, his relief over shadowing her answer.

"Poor girl doesn't do well with company, doesn't do well with much anymore. The war wrecked her. Now she just hides out in the tiny black hole of a bar a block over and serves the people who want to forget and enables her alcoholic uncle."

He must look lost because her timid look grows into something almost protective, "You left her. Everyone either died or left around her. What did you think would happen?"

Guilt washes over him like a tidal wave and he tries to swallow it. "A block over you said?"

She studies him, her brown eyes boring into his before she sighs and nods.

"Thank you." It's probably the most sincere thank you he's given someone in a while.

"Don't be surprised if she doesn't welcome you back. She's an empty little thing now, she isn't the girl you seem remember."

He wants to argue with her, tell her that she must be wrong about Charlie. The Charlie he remembers is fire and iron and sarcastic remarks. This girl he's hearing about sounds like a stranger.

He wanders across the street and down the block, almost dreading what he will find. He just about passes by the bar he's searching for, the innkeeper wasn't kidding about it being a black hole. The wooden door blocking his entrance is worn and is an ashen color and he stares at it as the seconds go by. One, two, three. When he reaches forty seven he forces himself to open the door and as he hears it thud behind him he is welcomed with silence. Surely they can't all recognize him this quickly? He scans the silent crowd but their gazes aren't on him, they're on the woman in the center of the room with the knife to the man's throat.

That's the Charlie he remembers.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Charlie's POV

The sun was hot, too hot, making my clothes stick to my skin as I hauled crates of bottles off the wagon and into the bar. I vaguely remember Miles giving me a half ass salute as he walked by me before ditching me for the whiskey I kept stored underneath the bar. At least he had left the house on his own today. Typical Matheson incentives.

With the final crate in the bar I hand over the small pouch of diamonds as payment and don't even bother with a goodbye as I go back into the bar. Pleasantries are lost in this blacked out world and that's fine by me.

I start with the big crates, lining the shelves with bottles, the small range of liquor made up for by the size of the bottles. When the supplier only comes here every six months, you either order too much or you're out of luck if you run out. The bottles of whiskey I shelve last, the cheap stuff front and center before I take the good stuff and start to store it away. Eight bottles for Miles, six on the top shelf for the regulars and four bottles for me.

There's an ache in my shoulder, deep and pulsing. Remnants from the war. I take a deep breath and try to loosen my shoulder, feeling it coil even tighter like a band of fire around the muscles. It's been happening more frequently, I find my knees crack after an extended period of sitting, my shoulder aches if I strain it too much from the shotgun shells tearing the muscles and my skin still tightens over the scar from the time I got stabbed in the middle of combat when it gets damp and cold. I couldn't forget this war if I tried, it's become a part of me. Embedded in my bones and muscles and skin in the shape of scars and aches and bands of fire.

I grab one of the good bottles and wander over to where Miles is occupying his usual booth, his feet propped up on the other side as his hands cradle a glass of amber liquid.

"Restrained yourself from taking the entire bottle huh?" I tease him, feeling relief at the smile the flickers over his face, even if it disappears a moment later. I shove his feet over and settle onto the seat across from him, cracking open the new bottle and taking a long pull before sliding it over to him.

He shrugs, "Wanted to make sure you had enough stock before I starting stealing from your supply."

He doesn't look at me when he says this but it warms a piece of me and I'm reminded of the Miles that looked out for me when everyone was still alive. Not dead and gone, leaving us to survive alone.

The bar is chaos by seven. The regulars mixed in with the travelers making a room of boisterous yells and hollered orders. Its chaos that Miles actually offers to help me bartend, an offer I would never refuse even if we were slow. He and I start to work in silent synchronization, communicating with nods and shakes of the head as we take order after order, pouring liquid into the glasses on the counter and pocketing diamonds with a nod.

I pass Steve, one of the regulars, a glass full of the good stuff and take only half the amount of diamonds he tries to pay me, gently squeezing his shoulder instead as I move onto the next customer.

"You're Charlie Matheson." It's yelled from across the counter and I narrow my eyes at the person yelling at me. Young guy, maybe 6'2, his arms thick chords littered in scars as I tear my eyes away from them and look him in the eye.

"Order a drink or get the hell out."

He chuckles and shakes his head at me.

"You know, I almost didn't believe it was you the woman in town were describing. I came here looking for Charlie Matheson, Butcher of Baltimore's protégée, the great Sebastian Monroe's sidekick, the little girl who ended a big war, but that's not who I'm looking at."

I suck in a breath at Bass's name before I feel my hands tighten into fists. The once voice filled bar is now hushed into silence, all eyes on us and I feel the start of a fire course through me.

He full out laughs at my unresponsiveness, "God if people could see you now, _the_ Charlie Matheson, _tending bar_ , all damaged and sad because the war took away the things she loved. Not so great now, is she?" 

It isn't me who speaks up but Miles, dark rage filling his usually uncaring eyes. "What the fuck do you want?"

He actually looks confused when Miles asks him that before smirking as though the answer was obvious and we were just too fucking stupid to get it.

"A fight of course."

Miles wipes his hands on his pants before nodding his head at the door. "Well then let's go."

The guy settles onto the bar stool and chuckles, "Not with you old man, you already live up to your reputation. Her. I want her."

There's a pounding of blood in my ears and I feel something like a spark that ignites my blood at his words.

"Why me? You just said you know who I am, the things I've….. _done_. So why me?"

"I've heard about you. Everyone has. There's these legends about you whispered around towns like these that I've been to. The great Charlie Matheson. Daughter of the woman who ended the world to save her son, you never were the favorite child were you? Niece of The Butcher of Baltimore, suspected daughter, hand trained by him and the great Sebastian Monroe, former rulers of the Republic. The girl who marched into war with all those men and sliced and shot her way through hundreds. The girl who survived death time and time again. The girl who men talk about in hushed whispers for fear that you'll hear them and slice them open neck to belly. I figured if the legends are true, to be able to say I fought with Charlie Matheson and won, that's the kind of reputation I would like."

I feel a slow smile form on my face as I lean my elbows on the counter so we're eye to eye.

"Then let's give you a reputation."

I flip my body over the counter, grabbing the knife that's strapped underneath the counter, feeling my elbow hit the wood as a sharp pain runs through it but I ignore it, wrapping my arm around his neck as I hoist myself upright on the other side as he's down on his knees. I press the knife to his jugular, "Well that was a quick fight, did I live up to my reputation?"

I hear the door close and glance up, almost dropping the knife as I take in the infamous Sebastian Monroe, standing in the doorway of my bar, his eyes alarmed as he takes me in. He looks worn and tired and in some sort of awe that I can't quite place.

I feel bile rising in my throat and I shut him out of my head, refusing to look at him as I readjust my grip on the knife slightly. He's a ghost. Those patterned nights of insomnia are catching up to me. I know that's bullshit but it's the mantra I chant in my head, pretending he isn't standing twenty feet away from me. I'm damn good at pretending. My voice is low when I speak, low and calm and dangerous.

"Do you know how long it takes to bleed out once your throat is slit? Forty seconds, forty five tops if it's a messy cut. It's not as painful as some deaths, more painful than others though. Blood will fill your lung, then your throat, it will bubble out from your nose and your mouth. I've done this many times before, it's the kind of death I give you when I don't want you to suffer.

I press the knife a little harder against his throat before continuing, almost in a conversational tone.

"You're right, my mother ended the world, and my uncle is the Butcher of Baltimore who has killed with me and for me. So has the _great_ Sebastian Monroe."

I refuse to looks at _him_ when I say his name even though I hear his sharp inhale when I say it.

"They have taught me how to kill with my bare hands, how to kill with swords and knives, how to make a death as painful as I want it to be, how to draw death out over days if I want to. They've taught me how to gut a man from neck to sternum, how to behead one as though slicing through a neck was like slicing through butter. They've taught me how to make a man wish for death."

I can feel his heart racing against my knife, feel his heartbeat flutter with every breath he takes as he inhales and exhales harshly.

"I've been surrounded by the three most dangerous people in the entire world, what did you expect me to be? A made up legend used for shits and giggles? There are four people in this world you should fear. _I'm_ the fourth."

I dig the blade into his neck and hold him in place as he tries to squirm away from the knife, digging the point in the flesh just beside his jugular, cutting a deep clean line three inches long, tasking when he tries to pull away.

"Charlie…"

I hear alarm in the voice by the door and I shut it out. I'm in control, my hands steady as I cut and my breathing even as I inhale and exhale. This is the Charlie I remember I used to be. This is the Charlie of war, this is Charlie the solider, this is the Charlie who helped lead a rebellion and ended a war.

"That's going to scar. When people ask you how you got that scar, tell them about me. Tell them Charlie Matheson did it. Tell them that she lost everything in the war, she doesn't have anything else to lose, and that makes a person _very_ dangerous."

I let go of his head pushing him forward as he scrambles onto his feet as he turns around to face me, his eyes wild as blood pours from the cut on his neck.

"I would leave if I were you. Unless you're up for round two."

Blood drips off the knife I'm holding as I seemingly carelessly twirl it around in my hand, holding his eyes as he takes one last look at me before he walks away, letting the hot air in as he leaves.

My eyes fire around the room, the regulars grinning at me and the travelers looking sick to their stomachs.

"Anyone else questioning if I'm Charlie Matheson?"

Silence greets my ears and I nod before shrugging like it's an ordinary occurrence.

"Well alright then."

I feel a warm hand squeeze my shoulder and find Miles looking at me concerned and a little haunted.

"Is he really here?" I ask him, I don't look in his direction by the door, I keep my eyes on anything but him and I feel Miles stiffen before he sighs.

"Yeah, he's here."

I nod and the adrenaline from the night starts to crash, leaving me feeling hollow.

"Go home kid, you've had enough for tonight. I'll deal with this dumb fucker tonight."

It's tempting, it's also not fair.

"You shouldn't have to. He left you too."

I look up at Miles and see something I haven't seen in his eyes in a long time. Life. But he just shrugs, "Yeah, but that guy didn't say those things to me and I'm gonna have trouble sleeping tonight. Go home. I'll take care of the bar and of ….. _him_."

Miles seems resolved and I sigh, grateful and exhausted as the lack of adrenaline starts to hit me.

"Thank you." I lean up and kiss his cheek and pat his chest before wishing him goodnight.

I make my way through the bar, making my way towards him.

"Charlie," His voice is hesitant and alarmed and I feel my hands tighten into fists as I try to walk around him.

"Charlie." This time he walks directly into my path, blocking my exit and I can't help the fury that rushes through me.

"I swear to god if you don't move I will not be wasting what little control I have left on you."

He has the nerve to look shocked then alarmed and then slowly he steps out of my path, letting me push by him as the hot air envelopes me, taking me home.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Bass's POV

Numb. He just feels numb, which is a startling change from the anger he normally feels.

The bar's noise level has raised to an irritating buzz that makes his head throb and if Miles hadn't grunted a _sit your ass down and don't move until I'm done_ grunt, he would've taken his ass back to his room and wallowed before passing out with a bottle of shitty whiskey. But no, instead he's stuck in this sticky bar with the biggest fucking headache known to man while is best friend ignores his ass while demanding he stay put. Fucking peachy.

His mind drifts to the scene that Charlie put on earlier and he feels the rise of nausea in the pit of his stomach when he thinks about the way she described the way she's killed before. He's seen her do it, that's not what's shocking. It's the fact that he taught her how to do it, how he was actually proud of her when they were in the midst of combat and she sliced through a dozen men without hesitation and would shoot him a snarky grin before carrying on her way. At the time he was proud, proud and a little aroused, but now, after watching her talk about what she's done, he realizes he's done something horrendous, he helped turn her into him and Miles. He didn't want her falling apart after every fight but watching Charlie slice that man's neck earlier he now knows that she feels what him and Miles feel when they break and maim and kill. Nothing.

He finds himself stuck in his head, his mind circling, the innkeepers words, Charlie's scene in the bar, Miles face when he saw him, walking away from them two years ago as smoke rose from the town behind them, watching Connor die, three bullets passing through his body before the last one found it's home in his head, those memories, they're all swirling like demons falling from heaven.

The resounding smack on his head makes him blearily jump off the stool he was on, his feet trying to find purchase on the ground as his brain tries to catch up to whatever attack is happening.

He finds Miles looking at him impassively and starts to feel all the built up irritation rise to the surface making his blood boil with impatience and lack of sleep.

"WHAT THE FUCK MILES?!"

Miles just stares at him for a moment, that stupid impassive face he's making boring right into his Bass's face. "You were sleeping."

Bass reaches up to wipe the drool of his face as he looks around and notices the bar is empty and closed before glaring when Miles continues to stare at him indifferently before shrugging and walking away from him.

Bass watches Miles slide into a booth across the bar, settling in before taking the bottle off the table and pouring the brown ember into the glass in front of him. Then he just sits there, drinking and looking indifferent as Bass stands there like an idiot.

Finally Bass makes his way over to the booth, slowly approaching it like a hunter approaches his prey as he slides into the opposite side, meeting Mile's eyes as he tries to relax.

They sit like that for an immeasurable amount of time, Bass waiting for a sign from Miles and Miles just looking at him with hollowed out eyes. Finally Bass has enough and he starts to slide out of the booth.

"You know what, whatever Miles. When you get your head out of your ass, come find me."

He only gets a few steps away from the booth before he hears Miles voice. "What the hell do you get to be pissed off about?"

He spins around, his weariness forgotten by the rage that's taken its place.

"I've just travelled relentlessly this last month to get here and make sure you guys are okay and instead I get what? Threats from Charlie and disdain from you? Thanks but I'm sure I can get that from any place I've been to without travelling ten fucking thousand miles to find you." 

"WHAT THE HELL WHERE YOU EXPECTING BASS?!"

Mile's composed face breaks as his voice roars through the bar Bass steps back shocked by the outburst.

"What were you expecting from us? Did you want Charlie to give you a hug and for me to say ' _welcome back brother'_? You left us. Just like everyone else."

"My son DIED Miles. Do you get that?!"

Miles runs his hand through his hair and looks so broken that Bass almost regrets what he just said, though he doesn't know why. He lost his flesh and blood. _Again._ Miles out of everyone should know what that would do to him.

"And we lost everyone." Its Miles quiet voice that breaks him out of his reverie and it's broken and raw.

"Yes you lost Connor, I know. I know how losing another child has killed a part of you. Trust me I know. But we watched everyone die Bass, _everyone_."

"Miles-"

"Priscilla, Aaron's wife was the first to go. She was trying to get medical supplies to our camp when she stepped on a land mine the patriots had planted. She knew as soon as she stepped on it. Did you know Aaron spent three hours beside me watching me try to disarm it? We almost had it too until the patriots invaded our camp. The gunshots…. They made her lose her footing on the mine and bam, she was gone. Right in front of Aaron. One moment she was there telling him some stupid joke about the wild story they'd have to tell their kids and the next she was just…. gone."

Bass raises his hand to tell Miles to stop but Miles carries on, ignoring him.

"We're lucky we had planned an escape route in advance or none of us wouldn't made it out alive. Charlie practically had to drag Aaron away from the camp, he was just comatose, like he lost the will to even function. The next one we lost was Gene that really destroyed Rachel."

Miles sighs and sits back down in the booth, his face looking haggard.

"It was a better day. It was warm and peaceful and almost… Happy, and then Charlie asked where Gene was and we realized we hadn't seen him in a few hours so we went searching."

Bass knows how this story ends but he can't seem to form words to make it stop.

"We found him five miles from our safe house laying in the ditch. He had been stabbed nine times. We realized he had probably been helping out in town at the medical center and had gotten some kind of goods as payment. Charlie actually found him first and tried to get to Rachel before she saw him. That's Charlie ya know? Always trying to save people the pain that she's experienced. I mean it didn't do any good, Rachel actually threw Charlie to the ground in the struggle to get around her to see Gene. You should've seen her Bass, I know how much you hated her, but she broke right in front of me, right in front of _us._ Have you ever seen someone break in front of you? The way the light fades from there eyes and they collapse in on themselves and the _noise_ they make, it's the kind of noise that takes a piece of you with it."

Bass can't meet Miles's eyes and he grasps the edge of one of the tables for support. He was fucking stupid to believe that they would be okay.

"Rachel…" Bass's voice trails off as he looks wearily into Miles haunted eyes.

Miles's mouth tightens at the mention of Rachel's name but Bass watches him force the story through his lips anyway.

"Gene's death really wrecked her. I mean Rachel wasn't the stablest person to begin with after the bombs dropped but Gene dying broke her. The kind of broken that can't be set and wrapped to heal. Rachel and Charlie had gotten better, good even but Gene dying sent her into a tailspin. She started saying how Ben and Danny were waiting for her and how peaceful she thought it would be with them. It really messed Charlie up Bass. Imagine having your mother leave you when you're seven and then trekking halfway across the country to save your brother. Then to lose your brother, watch the bombs drop as your mother has a mental breakdown. Lose a few people as they die in front of you. Lose a few more and then have no one but your mom, a hermit of a man who never leaves his house and alcoholic uncle and then hear your mother say how she wishes she was with her dead son instead of her daughter who's standing right in front of her."

Bass's dormant heart aches for Charlie and he feels something raw for her and a familiar hatred for Rachel.

"Anyway, Charlie and I had gone out hunting earlier in the day. We had started to run low on fresh game and there was no happiness around Rachel. It's like she sucked all the light of a room by just being there. Charlie didn't want to go. _I_ convinced her it would be good for us."

Miles rubs his hand over his face and he can feel Miles entering a headspace where he isn't really present in their conversation anymore.

"I uh…. I came home and went upstairs to find Rachel. I walked into our bedroom and in the old porcelain tub Rachel was lying there, soaked in her own blood. She slit her own wrists. Used one of my swords to do it. She left a note, 'I'm _going to find peace. Tell Charlie to be strong. I'll see you again one day.'_ "

Miles takes a long drink from his glass finishing it before fixing Bass with that indifferent stare.

"Miles I …. I didn't know. When I left I wasn't thinking. And I sure as hell didn't think that this would happen. I just –I needed to get away. Everywhere I looked I was reminded of Connor, even Charlie. Looking at her reminded me of him. "

He watches Miles sigh and then stare at his drink in earnest.

"I can understand why you left. I don't forgive you for it, but I understand. Charlie doesn't understand and she sure as hell won't forgive you. "

"What possible reason could she stand by? Charlie out of everyone in this entire fucked up world should get why I left."

"Bass, I get it because I lived it with you. I lived it when you lost your family. I lived it when you lost Shelly and the baby. I lived it when you lost Emma. Charlie lost everyone she ever cared about. How old are we Bass? How many people have we lost? Charlie's lost that many if not more and she's only what, 22? And yet she's still here, still standing. She can't comprehend you leaving because as much as she wanted to do just that, she didn't. It killed the Charlie that I used to know, but she still got up every morning and kept going. She kept going for the both of us. Imagine that, she lost her mother and she had to hold me up because I couldn't pull myself together and think about the fact that she just lost everyone who mattered to her? I mean what does that make me?"

Bass feels a weight on his body like lead in his bones and he sinks into the booth, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and taking a long draw from it that burns like fire when he swallows.

"She really took Rachel's note to heart huh?" Bass asks, watching as Miles nods, looking exhausted and older than 45.

"I used to think Charlie was made of fire, but the Charlie I know now is made of steel, she doesn't let anything in, doesn't let _anyone_ in. I'm only here because of her. How she is still here is beyond me because she got here all alone."

Bass frowns, "What about Aaron?"

Miles shrugs and his face clouds with something that closely resembles anger. "He doesn't leave his house. Charlie stops by once a week to drop off fresh game and vegetables. She used to stand out there for hours thinking that he was too courteous to let her wait outside but this one time he left her out there in a thunderstorm and she waited for two hours, you know how stubborn Charlie can be, before finally giving up. Nearly caught pneumonia. That's when she finally just started leaving whatever she brought for him on his doorstep and let him do whatever the hell he wanted to do."

"So what do we do now?" Bass feels a kind of panic rising up his throat and takes deep breaths to try and steady himself.

Miles expression quickly shifts back to indifference and he picks up his glass. "No one's keeping you here. Whatever you came back for doesn't exist. If you can't live with that then there's no point in staying."

With that Miles gets up from the booth, placing his glass on the worn countertop of the bar.

"If you decide to leave, we won't be chasing you. Not me, not Charlie. We're done chasing after ghosts."

He gives a long look at Bass that makes Bass shiver with how empty his eyes are before walking out the door with a murmured 'lock up when you're done.' Leaving the bar without a goodbye.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Bass's POV

One Month Later

The air was chilly as Bass headed straight towards the blacksmith shop, his walk one of purpose as he felt the heavy knife weigh in his boot and his pistol tucked into his waistband as per usual.

He had stayed.

That night after Miles had walked away from him in the bar he had gone back to his room and packed his bag, ready to move on from something he couldn't believe he had lost. It was Charlie's words that echoed in his head, ' _I've got nothing left to lose, and that makes a person very dangerous.'_

He remembered feeling that way, but she had something to lose, he just had to prove he was worth losing.

He is now an official resident to the undead town, the reaction a mixture of impassiveness and a few glares. Better than he expected if he was being honest. He also had a job, bounty hunter. It kept him sane, letting him exercise his skills and power while doing it in a better way than before. He was busy and it helped keep his mind off the fact that Charlie hadn't said more than two words to him in the last month.

Miles had come around in his own way, not kicking Bass out of his booth when he sat down with a drink. They didn't really talk, and Bass knew he meant it when Miles said that he couldn't forgive him, but Miles also didn't push him away like he feared he would. The silence was better than nothing. Unlike Charlie.

He would take anything to get a reaction from Charlie, granted, her anger was vicious and scathing and he didn't know if he could stand the emotional punch that it would give him, but he at least could work with anger. Or tears. But the indifference in her eyes him flinch when he looked at her. Like she was looking right through him as though he were a ghost.

He walked into the blacksmith shop and got a defensive look from the owner that made Bass stare him down, despite knowing that he was a good man, almost a friend. But he had a job to do nonetheless.

"Where is he John?" Bass's voice held authority and he watched the store owner purse his lips in conflict as he shrugged unconvincingly.

"John, he stole ten diamonds from a grieving widow, I don't care how bad he needed it, there's no excuse."

Bass watched as the man exhaled, almost as if the life had drained from him and Bass understood. What Bass was asking for wasn't anything simple. He was asking this man to turn over a friend and a good employee. Both were rarities in this new world. But this was the job, like it or not.

"He's in the back."

Bass nodded in a silent thank you and steadily made his way to the back, trying to block out the noises of metal hitting metal around him.

He approached the man he was looking for carefully and waited till he was within arm's reach before yelling his name.

"Carter Anderson."

The man turned and paled as he saw Bass, stumbling back. Bass kept his face neutral as he analyzed his options, grab him now and risk getting burned by the multiple fire lit metals nearby, let him run and chase him, put him down. Bass opted for the first one.

He grabbed Carter at the same time Carter grabbed him around the waist and tackled him, sending them both to the ground. Bass vaguely felt his head hit something sharp and hard before instincts took over and he had Carter pinned on him stomach, hands behind his back.

His head started to spin and after tying Carter's hands behind his back he reached up to find blood on the back of his head. Shit.

Bass sat sullenly in the doctor's clinic, his head throbbing with each breath he took and he wished that Blanchard had just let him go home, but no, the old bastard has insisted he go get checked out because him being dead from a brain bleed wouldn't do Blanchard any good. Not that they could tell if he had a brain bleed anyway, but he went for the sake of ending an aneurism inducing argument.

"Hi."

Bass looks up towards the voice and sees the little girl sitting across from him in the stifling room, her chestnut brown hair pulled into two braids and her eyes a green like the grass in the spring.

"Hi," Bass watches the girl smile at him, showing the dimples in her cheeks.

"What's your name?"

He chuckles at her, "I'm Bass. What's yours?"

She beams at him, "Sarah Meredith Barns."

"Well it's very nice to meet you Sarah."

"Why are you here?" Leave it to the child to get to the point. Bass smiles at her and makes his eyes big and silly.

"I hit my head when working. Why are you here?"

She looks nervous for a moment and he's about to tell her that she doesn't have to tell him when she blurts out, "I punched a boy."

He stills, trying to not burst out laughing at her defeated face from telling him her big secret.

"Why did you punch him?" Bass can't stop the smile that comes when the little girls face morphs into something defiant.

"He was being mean to me. always hits the boys who are mean to her."

Bass freezes at Charlie's name and can't help the familiar tug in his chest at the thought of Charlie hitting the guys who were mean to her. Charlie didn't take shit from anyone, let alone a guy. It also meant that guys had been mean to her. That thought sat heavy on his mind.

"So you want to be like ?"

She nods, her head bobbing vigorously in enthusiasm. "I want to be strong like her."

Bass doesn't have the heart to tell the girl that Charlie's strong in the hardest kind of ways. Because of a war and death. Instead he forward and whispers, "Do you want to hear a secret?"

Her eyes light up and she jumps off her chair to sit on the chair next to him and he whispers to her, " isn't just strong, she's a warrior."

"A warrior?!"

He nods, his eyes big for effect, "Everyone knows , and how she saved a lot of people from lots of bad people. She saved them because she's smart and brave and very very strong."

Sarah leans in and whispers to him, "Can I tell you a secret too?"

Bass nods, amused by her childlike innocence.

"Miss. Charlie once hit a boy in front of me."

Bass sits back and feels a little shocked. "Why did she hit him in front of you?"

She shrugs, "She didn't know I was watching. The boy kept following her and grabbing her arm and then called her a bad word, so she pushed him against a store and hit him. He stopped following after that."

She looks determined as she remembers, "After saw me watching she walked me home and told me that if a boy was ever mean to me, to tell her and she would help me. She told me no girl should ever feel small because of a boy."

Bass leans back into the stiff chair and is at a loss for words when he feels Sarah's tiny finger poking his arm.

The little girl looks troubled as she looks up at him.

"Bass, if Miss. Charlie is a warrior, why does have to come to the doctor so much?"

Bass is puzzled by this and he asks her what she means.

"Miss. Charlie has to come to the doctor every week because the doctor has to make sure arm isn't getting more hurt. She has metal in her shoulder that is hurting her insides."

She states it so matter of fact but he feels nausea. Infections could happen at any moment, no matter how careful they were. The fact that Charlie has to see a doctor every week is bad. Really bad.

Sarah looks at him with concerned eyes, "Don't worry, she'll be okay."

Bass smiles down at her despite the sinking feeling in this stomach. There were things he couldn't save Charlie from, this was one of them.

 **Authors Note: Guuuuuuys! I know it took me forever to update and it's again from Bass's POV but trust me it's worth it. Charlie is my fearless heroine still, but she is also human and I want Bass to feel her rawness above anything else.** **The next chapter will be from Charlie's POV. Promise! Get ready for some serious feels. Reviews and things are loved!**

 **Xx**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Charlie pulls the strap of tank top over her shoulder as she watches Dr. Blake make notes in his worn notebook. Her eyes wander around the office that used to be her grandfather's office and feels her heart ache at the reminder.

"There's no infection yet Charlie, that's a good sign."

She sighs relieved and starts to slip on her flannel shirt that she had placed beside her when the doctor tsks at her.

"Let me have a look at that arm before you go."

Charlie grimaces but relents, knowing that arguing is futile with him. She places the flannel shirt back down and turns so that he can examine the splatter of purple and yellow mess her elbow is. It aches but she's had worse.

"You know," the doctor says, gently touching the discolored skin, "that bastard deserved what he got."

Charlie's mouth quirks into a grin at his use of the term bastard and she chuckles, "He sure as hell did. I thought for a moment that you were going to lecture your favorite patient."

He chuckles and then sets her arm back down at her side, "My dear, I could lecture you day and night but I don't think anything could tame that fire inside of you."

Charlie puts on her worn flannel shirt that used to belong to her grandpa, reveling in the heat it brings.

"I'll see you in a couple weeks. Any pain or any more fights, I expect to see you."

Charlie rolls her eyes but nods, smiling when he gently squeezes her uninjured shoulder. She gets up with a thank you and opens the office door, so lost in thought she almost runs over little Sarah Greyson.

"Are you sick today ?"

Charlie squats so she's eye level with Sarah and smiles gently, tucking an unruly brown lock behind her ear.

"Not today Sarah. says I'm doing A Okay today."

Sarah nods and looks worried and Charlie lifts her chin with her index finger so the girl will look at her.

"What are you doing here Sarah?"

Sarah sighs, her hands fidgeting with each other. "I punched a boy."

Charlie's silent for a moment, "Why did you punch him?"

"Because he pulled my hair and took my lunch."

Charlie's expression turns hard and she softly holds Sarah's hands, "Did you hurt your hand?"

She shakes her head vehemently, "No but Mrs. Collins told me to come here anyway."

"Well then we're going to go talk to this boy and sort this mess out okay? Does your mom know?"

"No she's working late tonight."

Charlie sighs, knowing that working late meant she probably wouldn't be home until the early am doing god knows what.

"Okay love, we're going to go to the school together and sort this out."

Sarah shakes her head, her eyes growing wide. "You can't hit them! They'll get mad and I'll be in even more trouble."

"Hey," Charlie moves so that Sarah has to look at her, "no one's gonna hit anyone okay? I'm going to talk to your teacher about what that boy did to you and then I'm going to talk to that boy about what he did wrong."

Charlie stands up and offers her hand to Sarah and she immediately takes it, her small hand fitting like glass in Charlie's rough calloused hand.

"Let's go hon." They start to walk through the waiting room when Sarah yells "Bye Sebastian!"

Charlie stops and searches the room, finding him squared away in the corner of the waiting room unmoving. Slowly he gets up, his hands in a surrender gesture as he approaches her.

"Charlie I know what you do when you talk to people." His eyes search hers and find fire and anger in them.

"You have a bad habit of thinking I asked for your input."

She tries to shove by him but he stands his ground and she halts before she walks into him.

"Charlie just take a second and breathe, think about what you're doing."

"Do you think that I'm forgetting what I'm capable of? I know exactly what I'm doing."

He sighs frustrated with her and runs a hand through his hair and studies Charlie's impassive face, "Charlie," he touches her arm and she flinches like she's been scalded and he drops his hand, "you can't protect everyone."

She pales and he wants to shoot himself for the reminder he just gave her and he suddenly realizes that he just made her think the very things that she believes. That her family's deaths are on her head.

"Shit Charlie, I didn't mean it like that."

Charlie backs away from him her head shaking frantically before she schools her features, remembering the young girl still holding her hand. She plasters on a smile the size of Texas and starts to walk away.

"Charlie…" He watches her walk out the doctor's office without looking back and he waits a moment before saying fuck it to his headache and starts to quickly jog to the bar he knows Miles is holed up in.

"Sarah I want you to wait out here for me okay?"

The girl nods and let's go of Charlie's hand as Charlie walks into the classroom, finding the teacher sitting at her desk reading through papers.

"Mrs. Collins."

The teachers head snaps up and a panicked smile runs fleetingly across her lips.

"Charlie, what can I do for you?"

Charlie's steps are assured as she feels her swords slap with every step she takes. "I'd like to talk to you about Sarah Greyson."

"Look Charlie, some of these kids are just lost causes, you've got to let them go. I can't just let kids go around hitting kids."

Charlie snarls, "But its okay when a boy gangs up on a girl and hurts her?"

"You know how boys are Charlie, they're just having fun."

Charlie pauses, her fingers dwindling on her sword sheath. "I do know how boys are," she says softly. "I know that some of them like to take girls against their wills. They like to hear them scream and plead with them as they rip their clothes off and rape them. I know the kind of boys who will use woman in any way they want and sleep the moment their heads hit the pillow. I've seen it. I've felt it. "

The woman sighs and smooths her hands out on her skirt, "Charlie, there isn't any war. What you've fought through and _with_ is gone. You need to let it go and stop finding vendettas to throw yourself into."

Charlie pulls the knife out of her leather boot, fingering the blade with unhurried grace.

"You know when I was fighting I met this girl, Alex. She had spent two years in a brothel, being sold by men to other men who did with her as they pleased. She joined our rebellion and when it was night and we couldn't sleep, she used to lie beside me and tell me stories, the kind of stories that bring a whole new term to the phrase _hell._ She told me about men who used to chain her to their wall and rape her, how some used to cut her with pocketknife's so no one else would want her. Every night she would have nightmares, she would wake up screaming and she would wake the entire camp with her screams, but no one complained. Whatever she was dreaming about to make her scream like that…. No one wanted to know what it was."

"We've fought and bled and died so that it didn't happen to these children. We've done things that will haunt us for the rest of whatever life we will have. We've sacrificed and done things we can never take back in order for there to be peace."

Charlie locks eyes with Mrs. Collins and takes a step closer. "Boys will never be just boys. Boys grow into men and men are capable of horrible things."

"Thirteen year old boys aren't monsters Charlie! They're children."

"What is the boy's name?"

Mrs. Collins hesitates and Charlie takes another step towards her.

"Jake, Jake Thomas."

Charlie nods in thought and then puts her pocket knife back in her boot.

"Deal with him or I will. And trust me if it isn't dealt with I will take your job and I will get that boy kicked out of school faster than you will see coming. Don't call my test me. I'm too tired to make empty threats."

Charlie walks out of the classroom, feeling a little lighter than she has in a long time. She finds Sarah where she left her and ushers her out of the school only to find Miles and Bass jogging up the yard towards the school, stopping suddenly when they see Charlie.

"Seriously?!" She yells, directing it at Miles and shooting a death glare at Bass.

Miles shrugs and slips his hands into his jean pockets, "This fucker here thought you were going to dismember the teacher. I told him you had a bit more control than that but he insisted."

Charlie keeps her voice light, mindful of the little girl beside her but her eyes are blue steel and angry.

"Well there's no blood on me so everything is just right as rain."

She kneels down to the little girl at her side, "Sarah do you want to go with Miles to work for a little bit? He'll give you some cookies and juice."

Sarah nods immediately, she has always taken a liking to Miles and Miles can't help but be soft on her. Sarah grabs his bigger hand and when Bass starts to walk with him Charlie harshly grabs his arm and hauls him back.

"Charlie…" Bass raises his hands in a surrender gesture and she snorts.

"Stop fucking with me Bass, I don't need you to care. I don't need you look out for me. I don't need you to save me. I need you to leave me the hell alone. You want to be buddies with Miles again, be my guest. But if you leave him again, you will kill him and then I'll kill you. So be very sure that you're here to stay. _For him._ Because he won't survive you leaving again despite him saying he doesn't care. Death broke him. You broke him. I can't put him back together again."

Bass looks shocked, "I won't leave him again Charlie, I swear."

She shrugs, "Fine." And then starts to walk away until he grabs her arm.

"What about us?"

She chuckles but it's an empty kind of laugh. "There is no us. Do not mistake my caring for Miles as a way to keep you here. The Charlie who would have cared two years ago is gone. A little girl buried six feet under. Don't try to find her Bass, she'll only come back to haunt you."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Charlie sits on her old and creaky bed, her legs out in front of her as she tries to breathe steadily, her gaze focused on the dancing light from the cracks of dawn breaking.

Another nightmare, another sleepless night.

Her legs are shaking and she rests her sweaty palms on her knees to try and still them even as they continue to shake relentlessly.

She knows what will calm and her and slowly lies back onto the bed on her side, curling her knees to her chest as her arms wind around her knees and she quietly starts to sing.

" _Heading down south to the land of the pines and I'm thumbin' my way into North Caroline. Starin' up the road and pray to God I see headlights."_

She sings the song until she's just whispering the words into the warm air of morning, until the shaking resides and her hands loosen from the vise grip she has on her legs.

Just anotherday, even if it is her birthday.

She's calm enough now to sits herself up in bed with disgust for letting it happen again before swinging her legs over the side of her bed and throwing on cutoff shorts and a tank top to combat the Texas heat. Sliding on socks and her boots before sliding  
/her knife into her boot, feeling the comforting feeling of heaviness against her foot as she walks out the door of her house.

The town is still quiet, vendors starting to setup for the day as she keeps her head down and stops at one to buy and apple for breakfast, her stomach protesting against the food but she forces it down her throat anyway, knowing that will be the most  
/she'll be eating today.

She slows down to wander through the vendors, there's no rush to get to the bar today, Miles has a key and she won't be busy for another few hours. The rough feeling against her big toe reminds her of her need for new socks and she starts the search for  
/them, weaving her way through the stands of vegetables and knick knacks until she finds what she's looking for.

She finds four pairs, two thin ankle ones and two thick wool pairs for the impending winter, her mind already preparing for the long hard winter ahead of them. Cold diamonds cut into the palm of her hand as she rolls them around, the heat of the sun beating  
/down on her and she impulsively grabs a straw brim hat and places it on her head.

The vendor is an older lady and she immediately makes her way over to Charlie when she spots her.

"And how's Charlie this fine morning?"

Charlie smiles despite the heat and lack of sleep. "I'm doing okay Evie. In need of some new socks though." She holds up the pairs of socks in her hand and Evie's breaks into a smile as she takes the socks from Charlie's hand and inspects them before  
/nodding approvingly.

"These will do you just fine my dear, especially with winter looming."

Charlie smiles and then remembers the hat on her head and hands it to Evie. "This as well please."

Evie takes it from Charlie's hand and glances around her stand. "Are you sure there's nothing else you want?"

Charlie shakes her head even as her eye catches on a cobalt dress hanging on one of the homemade racks and even as Charlie envisions wearing it, her common sense smacks her harshly back down. Old Charlie would have worn that. Pre-blackout Charlie. Even  
/mid blackout Charlie would have enjoyed frivolous novelties like this dress, but she isn't either of those girls anymore and the reminder hurts her in the place she didn't think she could hurt again.

Charlie turns back to Evie and forces a smile, "No thank you, just the socks and hat."

Evie hesitates and then wraps everything in brown paper and tells Charlie the price making Charlie frown.

"You're undercharging me Evie."

The older lady's smile is sly and warm as she winks at Charlie. "The hat is a gift my dear, at least allow me this on your birthday."

Charlie's shocked face makes Evie laugh, the older lady's eyes lighting up.

"How did you know?" Charlie stutters, confusion in the crease in her forehead. Evie smiles and then leans into Charlie's space like they were speaking about a conspiracy.

"Miles Matheson my dear, has everyone on lookout for you today." She hands Charlie the brown paper wrapped items and when Charlie takes hold of it a stunned expression still on her face, Evie clasps Charlie's hands within her own.

"You've made it to twenty-four Charlie, you survived. You're surviving. You walk through here every morning and you make it through the day while some of these people who have survived less are wallowing away."

Tears spring to Charlie's eyes and only years of practice keep them off her face as Evie's face softens to the point of empathy and she clutches Charlies hands tighter.

"You will keep surviving Charlie Matheson. Not because you want to, but because you're too damn resilient to die."

Charlie can't resist hugging the older woman, her heart heavy as she smiles goodbye, carrying her brown paper wrapped package through the street with her. Miles remembered her birthday.

Today is a better day.

Bass sees Charlie wander through the street from his little table on the street, carrying a brown package as she smiles unconsciously at the group of children who yell happy birthday as they pass her in a flurry.

Twenty-four. Charlie is twenty-four today. The years have blurred together for him, tragedy after war after death has made the years almost insignificant to how he feels. The mirror doesn't lie when he looks in it, the aged and haggard appearance hasn't  
/disappeared with the end of the war because he knows better. There is always another war.

If anyone had asked him to join another war a year ago he would have joined without hesitation. War was where he thrived and breathed the cleanest of air. War was where he kept his heart and the people who held it so gently.

He wonders what Charlie will do today, she loved presents as a child and flowers and grape soda. But Charlie isn't six anymore, she isn't even twenty-four. She's the age that never ages and never forgets.

His eyes wonder around the street and stops on old Evie Patterson waving him over and he knows he can't deny her anything as he gets off the chair and makes his way over to her.

"What can I do for you Evie?" He asks his tone concerned as he takes in the jittery energy coming from her.

"Have you gotten Charlie Matheson a gift yet Sebastian?"

"I don't think Charlie wants anything from me Evie." He says quietly and is surprised when she laughs and rolls her eyes at him.

"Men haven't got a clue, do they?"

Bass feels confused and must look it because Evie sighs a long, frustrated woman sigh.

"Charlie Matheson is beautiful is she not?"

Bass hesitates to answer that but when Evie rolls her eyes he nods uncomfortably. "She's as beautiful as rain on a sweltering Texas day."

Evie's grin makes Bass flush red and she plows ahead before he can take it back.

"But as beautiful as she is, how many men in this town will approach her today, let alone give her a gift?"

Bass feels lost in this conversation and answers as honestly as he can. "I really don't know Evie."

"None Sebastian. Because as beautiful as Charlie is, there is not a man in this town that can approach Charlie, because even as it's her birthday, she is not twenty-four. Charlie Matheson will never be that young again.

"Charlie is more than beautiful, she's survived the things that have killed some of the strongest men. She has survived the loss of almost every person she has loved. She has sacrificed so that we for now, can be free. She has given all she can give,  
/and has never asked for someone else to give."

Bass feels his heart drop as Evie speaks and the clenching in his stomach makes him want to vomit but before he can excuse himself Evie touches his hand as she hands him a brown paper wrapped package.

"What this?" He asks her.

"Give thisto her today and maybe you will find your way home Sebastian."

Charlie had found the bar decorated in unconventional paper made decoration and a sign saying 'Happy Birthday Charlie!'

Miles had remembered and he had made sure the whole town had known it. For the first time in what Charlie can't even remember, she feels light.

People had insisted on feeding her until she was so full she didn't even think of the morning panic she had endured. Cake had been served and she had eaten that too, the bar for the first time since she had opened it a place filled with laughter and clapping  
/that reminds her of the times her Miles and Bass had sat around the fire telling stories of all the things that would make each other laugh.

He's here. She can feel it, feel his gaze always on her. She hates it, but not enough to kick him out, the bottle in her hand keeping her flying. After all, this is all she wanted for so long, she just wants to pretend, just for a little while longer,  
/that nothing has changed.

Everything has changed.

"I would like to make a toast!"

Charlie jerks out of thought as her very drunk uncle raises the bottle he's holding and aims it at her making her roll her eyes.

"To Charlie! It's her birthday ya know."

Miles garbled speech makes people laugh before he holds his hand up to quiet them.

"Charlie is…special. Better than all of us here. She has held me together through the lowest I have ever been. Charlie… Charlie holds everyone together.

When the war was going on, we used to call Charlie our North Star because we knew," Miles's voice breaks slightly, "that she would be what leads us home."

The bar is silent and its smothering before Miles clinks his bottle against hers and says, "To our North Star."

The clinking of glasses echoes through the bar and this time Charlie can't help the tears that slide down her face as she hugs her uncle.

"Thank you." She murmurs against his shoulders, her hands frantically brushing away the tears.

"No, thank you for saving me Charlie."

The party goes on for awhile, and Charlie doesn't know what time it is when she end up wandering home after dropping Miles off at his house. She nears her house in slight relief since her head is spinning from all the whiskey and a new found bottle of  
/tequila that had been one of her gifts.

There's rustling from behind her and she reaches for her knife when a hand grabs her arm and a curse is muttered behind her.

"Fuck Charlie you are smashed." Bass growls as he tries to keep her upright from the sudden head rush and Charlie pushes away from.

"Correction," She says haughtily, "I am very drunk."

She stumbles a bit but manages to get her footing as she continues the walk to her house, hearing Bass jog to keep up with her.

"What do you want Monroe?"

They're almost at her house now and he gently puts his hand on her arm and before she can brush him off he places the gift in her hands.

She looks blearily at the package in her hands and then at him, seemingly speechless as she stares back at the package in her hands in wonder that drunk Charlie can't conceal.

He brushes a lock of her hair away from her face, surprised when she doesn't slap it away and tilts her chin up to look at him and when she does, he's hit with the incredulity in her expression that makes him want to hold her, but instead he presses a  
/kiss to her forehead and drunk Charlie doesn't object.

"Happy birthday North Star." He murmurs before leaving her standing there under the moon with a brown paper wrapped package on her birthday.


End file.
